Angel of the Home
by bloodredroses
Summary: An Uber-Xena story set in Victorian times. Please R/R!


ANGEL OF THE HOME  
  
  
by Bloodredroses  
  
  
WARNING: This is a love story between two women. If this kind of thing offends you, then go away, far, far away, and come back when you are more enlightened. If you are under 18 or 21, as it is in some states, you may only read this if you have someone of age with you.  
  
DISCLAIMER The characters of Xena belong to MCA/Universal, Renaissance, and TPTB, and are used here without permission. But the story is mine, all mine!!!!! (grins evilly) :) I also promise to put them back when I'm done with them.   
  
I know what's expected of me. I see it in my husband's eyes every time he looks at me. I hate that thing that he does to me. I HATE IT! He wants to do that thing, tonight. Why doesn't he just go to his whore? I know he has one. I know that's where he goes every week.  
  
It happened again last night. My husband called out her name while he was with me…"Angel." I hate her, yet I don't. I am always wondering who this Angel is. I'm not as stupid as he believes me to be. He keeps saying it's because he thinks of me as an angel, but I know that's not the truth. "Danielle," he always says, "You are my angel, my angel of this home. You are pure and good and a wonderful mother to these children." But he never says more that that.  
  
I must know who this "Angel" is. The children are with my mother at her house in the country for two weeks. I say good-bye to my husband as he leaves, and I wait cautiously. A few moments later, I follow.   
  
I have now followed him to the bad area of the city. I see him go into taverns and come out extremely drunk. I then see her, and I know why he goes to her. She is tall, with raven hair, and even at my distance, I can see her crystal-blue eyes. Then I feel them boring into my own green eyes. She knows that I am here, yet she says nothing to my husband. She knows who I am…why I am there.  
  
Two weeks have passed since I have seen Angel…she haunts me in ways that I have never imagined. One day, my husband brings her home. He introduces her, even though we already know her. He says she is to be a new maid, but I know the real reason she's here. He enjoys her. She enjoys him. I cannot enjoy him, it is impossible, for as he has said, I am pure.  
  
Angel and I took a liking to each other right away. Even with the real reason she lived with us, I never cared. I didn't have to do that thing anymore, and that was fine by me. Yet Angel still haunted me…her raven hair, her eyes, and her self-assurance even though she was a whore who had just been upgraded to mistress. I didn't know why…and every time I began to understand I pushed it away.  
  
Angel must have sensed what I was feeling. One day, while my husband was at work, Angel approached me.  
  
"It's not often that a mistress and wife get along so well," she said.  
  
"As long as he leaves me alone…" I dropped off, not believing what I had just said.  
  
"It's okay," she whispered. "You're not the first woman to have said it, Mrs. Bardon."  
  
"Please, call me Danielle," I said. I'd said it before, but she had always continued to address me formally.  
  
"Danielle…"she said, my name rolling off her tongue.  
  
"Angel…" I said, feeling her name as I said it.  
  
Angel put her arms around me from behind. Her raven hair spilled over both of us as it fell out of her bun. "You never enjoyed him," she whispered in my ear. "I've seen this happen before. You want to enjoy, not just be enjoyed by someone else, but you can't because you're 'pure,'" she said, shocking me. She knew how I felt!  
  
"Yes," I answered in a whisper. I turned around, my green eyes locking with hers of blue crystal, and our lips met. My muscles melted as the kiss continued. I'd never felt this way, not even with my husband, whom I was supposed to love and cherish. But she made me feel something I'd never felt before.  
  
"It's called passion," she said, as if reading my mind. "Come with me," she whispered.  
  
I smiled. Angel was so lovely. I turned on my side to look at her, and she ran her fingers through my strawberry-blonde hair, that contrasted so beautifully with her raven locks. I'd never felt like this before, never so…free. She had been able to unlock that part of me that had been kept quiet for so many years.  
  
Angel and I kept our secret somehow, and my husband was none the wiser. I still don't know how, because some days it was so hard for me to contain my love for her. After he died in an accident two years later, Angel and I lived the rest of our lives together, in passion, and in love. 


End file.
